Louise’s outrage at that comment had been the final nail in the coffin of her relationship with her parents. Once their ample, antique front door had closed behind her, she had never been back, not even when they had become infirm and had moved into a care home. Some bridges could not be rebuilt. Some bridges were simply not worth rebuilding.
She had told Pete about the abortion after her own father’s refusal, against Eliza’s wishes. She’d had no choice. He had been horrified, utterly horrified. But he had understood. He had agreed that they should pay for the abortion, while also agreeing that he would never tell Eliza that he knew anything about it. She suspected that he would have found the subject hard to broach with her, at any rate, but his unwavering support had meant a great deal to her.
They had both been incredibly worried about Eliza after that, but she had appeared on the surface at least, to have made an admirable recovery. She had always been such an independent unit, so strident, so purposeful, and she had seemed to sail through her life – her exams, her degree, her friendships – with ease. It was only now that Louise was beginning to understand the truth…
The bride and groom were coming back down the aisle now, exuding pure joy. Eliza followed them once more, on the arm of one of the groomsmen, a rotund young man with a florid expression. Louise analysed her daughter’s face for signs of melancholy, but saw none. Either she was unaffected by the moment, or she was hiding it well.
The congregation was beginning to file out, thoughts of a welcome drink and a large lunch beckoning them to the reception. Louise reached down to pick up her handbag, put her other arm through Pete’s, and together they made their way out of the church.
Everyone around her was so happy, it was possible for her to ignore, briefly, the worries that haunted her.
Patience had recovered from sepsis, but what she was dealing with now was arguably worse. Her guilt weighed on her with every step.
Because, as it turned out, Pete had been right all along.
35
Eliza and Patience
July
Eliza unloaded the last bag of her belongings from her car. It had taken her two journeys to empty the flat, but it was all done now, with her father’s help.
‘Well done, love. That was hard, with all those stairs. Do you want a sit down?’
Pete had been asking her if she wanted to sit down all day. She knew he meant well, but she was not disabled, just pregnant, and the adrenaline boost she’d got after deciding to terminate the contract on the flat had given her enough energy to last for days.
‘If you don’t fancy a sit down, do you want a cup of tea instead?’
‘Oh, go on then.’
They squeezed past the pile of bags in the hall and made their way into the kitchen. It was far tidier now that Pete had returned home, and Eliza knew her mum was grateful for that. She was back working full-time on the trial now, collating evidence and dealing with families.It was Dad, in fact, who had encouraged her to go back to work. It was clear that employment had given her new confidence.
‘So, are you ready, then?’ Her father was reaching into one of the bottom cupboards for the biscuit tin. Eliza took a seat by the kitchen table.
‘For maternity leave? Yes. But not for motherhood. I feel like that may take some getting used to.’
Walking out of her office on her final day had felt like being released from prison; she had whistled the Great Escape theme tune under her breath. She wasn’t sure whether she could bear the idea of going back to her job in twelve months, but she would worry about that when the time came.
For now, she had enough money to keep her ticking over, thanks to twin miracles. Her parents had given her the refunded money for the wedding booking, and Ed had – purely out of guilt, she suspected – given her not only her share of their honeymoon fund, but also the entirety of the deposit on the Battersea flat, to help her get back on her feet closer to home. Housing was cheaper around Kidlington, and she had found what she hoped was a perfect flat for her forthcoming family of two. It had one large bedroom, a small kitchen, a living room which looked out onto a park, and, crucially, a garden. She hadn’t realised until recently how much she had longed to look out at green every day.
What she’d do for money after the birth was as yet unknown, but she had discovered significant inner strength in the past few months, and she knew now to trust her instincts. Ed had said he would help with childcare costs and she thought maybe she’d find a job closer to home, or try freelancing. Who knew, she might actually be good at PR if she wasn’t trying so hard to be someone she wasn’t?
‘I’m not a mother, obviously, but fatherhood is hard enough,’ said her dad, putting some biscuits on a plate and plopping teabags in two mugs. ‘I’m not sure I’ve been very good at it.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, getting up and enveloping him in a hug. Her father squeezed her tightly. ‘You’ve been amazing. You’ve always been there for me and Patience.’
‘I wasn’t though, was I? I went off abroad, trying and failing to make money, thinking that was all you lot needed. But I’m home now, anyway. A bit late.’
‘Yes, you are home, and exactly when it matters,’ Eliza said, looking down at her bump, which was now so large she could no longer see her toes. ‘I’ll be needing you a lot, soon.’
‘I know. And your mum and I will be very happy to help,’ he said, pouring hot water from the kettle. ‘It will be a nice change, caring for something so tiny. I’ve got so used to caring for an adult. I hear the nappies are smaller.’
Eliza rolled her eyes. She found the milk from the fridge and poured it into the mugs. ‘So are you going back to work then, Dad, or is this it for you?’
‘Well, your mum is bringing in money now, so that helps. But I think I might take Uncle Steve up on his offer of a job in the firm. Just part-time, consultancy stuff. Not really getting my hands dirty. It’ll help us save a bit.’
Eliza took the mugs over towards the bin and removed the teabags. ‘Sounds like a definite plan. I’m glad. For both of you.’
‘I know, sweetheart. And thank you. We’re getting there.’
Eliza smiled at her father, two adults acknowledging an elephant in the room. She took a sip from her tea and quickly changed the subject.
‘So, do you know when Patience is coming home again?’ she said, sitting back down, opposite her father.
‘No,’ he replied, avoiding her gaze. ‘But Eliza, there’s something else I wanted to raise with you, before we talk about her.’
‘What, Dad?’
Pete shifted in his seat.
‘How would you feel, love, if we sold the house?’
Eliza thought for a few seconds, holding her mug steady on top of her stomach.
‘Seriously, Dad? I’d be relieved.’
‘Really? You wouldn’t mind us selling the house you grew up in?’
‘You’re not talking about moving miles away, are you? Like Spain, or somewhere?’
Pete snorted.
‘No. Your mum would never move far away from Patience. We’ve just seen somewhere, a little bungalow out Woodstock way. It’s got nice views of fields and it’s cheaper than this. So we can have a bit of money back in our pockets. A new start. And there are no stairs, so Patience…’
‘Honestly, Dad, you don’t need to convince me. I’m all for it. This is your house. You do what you want with it. I’m getting my own place here now soon, anyway, aren’t I?’
‘You are, my girl. You are. Now, the other thing. Patience…’
‘Yes?’
‘How long is it since you last saw her?’
‘A few weeks ago. Why?’
Pete put his mug down on the table and sank back in his seat.
‘This past month has been bad. Very bad. For Patience.’
‘But you told me she was fine when we spoke on the phone? That she was all recovered from the sepsis?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you, pet. And anyway, it’s not th
at.’
‘Then what?’
Pete looked up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath.
‘She’s shouting. Yelling. Crying. There’s something up. Something really bad.’
‘Have the doctors taken a look at her?’
‘Yes, and they say she seems OK. Health-wise. But she’s just… different, love. Really different. It’s like she’s not the same person. I just wanted to warn you before you see it for yourself. Your mum and I…’
‘I can guess. Shit. What’s going on?’
‘I wish I knew, love. I really do wish I knew.’
Eliza was shocked to see that there was a tear brimming in her father’s left eye.
‘Do you think it’s something to do with the gene therapy stuff?’
‘Maybe, maybe… That’s what your mum reckons.’ The tear ambled down his cheek. ‘What have we done?’
‘You’ve done nothing wrong, Dad. Nothing. You stuck up for her. It was me, I allowed them to do it. Me.’
Eliza took a large breath, but it was not enough to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.
‘You mustn’t blame yourself, pet,’ Pete said, urgently, standing up and going over to Eliza, putting his arms around her. ‘You mustn’t. You did what you thought was best.’
‘Did I?’
‘Stop it, love. That’s what I keep telling your mum, too. There’s no use dwelling. Anyway, there’s a meeting tomorrow, to talk about it. At the care home. Would you come with us? Safety in numbers and all that.’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, as he patted her back. ‘Of course I’ll be there. It’s the least I can do.’
*
Being pregnant in a heatwave was the worst kind of torture, she thought. Eliza had dressed in the lightest cotton sundress she could find, but the material was sticking to her sweaty body and the high temperature was making her feet swell. The pavement beneath her feet was radiating the heat it had been absorbing for over a week, and it felt to Eliza as if she was being grilled on both sides.
She had tried to park in the care-home car park, but it had been full, so she had been forced to leave her car further down the road. At the speed she was currently walking – make that waddling – several hundred metres felt like at least a mile.
‘Hi, Eliza, come in.’
Beth had answered the door, her face sombre. Eliza wasn’t used to that; Beth reminded her of Tigger, bouncing wherever she went, resolutely joyful. However, she was firmly grounded today. This did not augur well.
‘She’s in her room. I’ll take you there.’
The inside of the bungalow seemed to be even hotter than outside; insulation had clearly not been the builder’s top priority. Every window was open and industrial fans hummed from every corner, but they were only succeeding in generating even more warm, moist air. Eliza walked past at least four before she arrived at Patience’s bedroom.
‘Just you on shift today?’ Eliza asked.
‘Oh no, Magda’s here with me. She’s making lunch.’
‘Ah.’ Eliza tried her best to hide her disappointment that Jimmy wasn’t there. She was now prepared to acknowledge that she had a crush on him; damn it, she thought, it was actually more of an obsession. She thought about him first thing in the morning, last thing at night and in her dreams, which were now becoming rather X-rated. She couldn’t get him out of her head, because he was so kind, and funny and he cared for Patience, genuinely cared. And those broad shoulders, and strong arms…
Stop it, Eliza, she thought. None of this will come to any good. You have a terrible track record when it comes to choosing men.
‘Here you go.’
Eliza walked into the room. Patience was sitting in her wheelchair, watching Take That’s Odyssey tour DVD.
Or at least, that’s what Eliza had assumed. But when she walked around to face her sister, she could see that Patience’s head was lowered, her eyes resolutely not looking at the screen. And she looked – angry. She had never seen her sister look like that before. Eliza moved her face to try to catch her eye, but each time she moved, Patience moved her gaze. Oh my God, she thought, Patience is avoiding me.
Piss off, Eliza. Piss off. I want to be alone.
‘Patience, it’s me. Come on, darling girl. What’s up?’
Haven’t you noticed? I’m a cripple stuck in an uncomfortable chair, watching something I have no choice over. It’ll probably repeat when it finishes and the lazy bastards here won’t even bother to change it. So I’ll have to watch it twice.
‘Are you in pain? Does it hurt somewhere?’
No, Sherlock, it doesn’t. Not right now, anyway. It did down below, for months, but none of you noticed. And then I got sick and almost died, so…
‘Is it your bladder again?’
No. Bugger off.
‘Have they sent off a sample again?’ Eliza asked Beth, who was still in the room, just behind Patience. ‘She might have another infection.’
‘Yes, just a few days ago,’ she replied. ‘It came back clean.’
‘Hmmm,’ Eliza said. ‘What else can it be, I wonder?’
How about, you’re going to have a baby, and you’re pretty, and you’re clever, and you’re healthy, and I’m none of those things? Shall we start with that?
‘Beth – could you turn the DVD off for a minute? I want to have a chat with her.’ Beth nodded, switched it off, and left the room.
Ah, thank fuck for that.
‘Patience… Mum and Dad are worried about you,’ she began.
I wish I could tell you that my internal world of green fields and sunshine has become a rutted, muddy no-man’s land under dark skies. It’s no longer a refuge.
‘They say you’ve been making funny noises…’
I can only see shadows. Dark thoughts. I’ve never felt frustrated about my life before, but now I go through stretches of raging against my weak, bent body, and of screaming at anyone within range, disgusted that they can’t understand me.
‘… like you’re almost shouting?’
You see, my previous dreamlike state was the reason why I was able to remain patient for more than thirty years, patient about the body I’d been given, patient about the entertainment I’d been offered, patient about the pain I frequently experienced, patient about being misunderstood and manipulated, over and over again.
‘What is it, my lovely girl? What is it that you want to say?’
But now my dreams are nightmares. I have lost my small joys. And I want them back, Eliza. I want to have a reason to laugh, a reason to smile. I want my dreams back.
‘They’re all gathered in the office. Shall I bring them in now?’ Beth said, putting her head around the door.
‘Sure,’ Eliza replied, too disturbed by what she had seen to even consider another option. Minutes later, her mum, dad, Patience’s GP Dr Aitken, the care home manager, Maggie, and Professor Larssen filed into the room. The professor immediately sat down next to Patience.
‘I’m just going to have a little listen, Patience,’ he said. ‘It might feel a bit cold.’
Bugger off. No amount of listening is going to make any difference.
He lifted up her T-shirt and began listening to her sister’s breathing with a stethoscope. Everyone was standing in silence, watching him work. Her mum gesticulated to another chair in the corner. ‘For you,’ she whispered. ‘You must be knackered.’ Eliza smiled her thanks and took a seat. She needed it, after that encounter.
After a minute or so, Professor Larssen ceased his investigations and turned to them all. ‘I think,’ he said, looking once more at Patience, and then in the direction of her parents, ‘that we are seeing some significant changes now. I know you have noticed some, and so have the nurses and carers, and I wanted to see it for myself.’ He looked back at Patience, who was now staring blankly at the ceiling. Eliza was shocked to see that her sister appeared to be scowling. ‘Shall we perhaps go outside? It might be easier to talk out there.’
Yes, you all bugg
er off. You don’t care what I think, anyway. You never have.
The five able-bodied participants of the meeting did not disagree. There was a collective sigh when they emerged into the small garden behind the house. They sat down on two picnic benches. These were in the shade and there was a small breeze here too, which cooled the beads of sweat which were dripping down the back of Eliza’s lower legs.
‘So, as I was saying,’ the professor continued, ‘there have been changes. Some worrying. You say that Patience has been making a lot more noise than usual. There has been some yelling, I believe, and she has never done that before. You say she seems a lot less content. This is very concerning. But our monitoring, on the other hand, shows no obvious reasons for this; there is no raised intra-cranial pressure, no obvious source of pain. And conversely, her breathing now seems to have regulated – she is no longer breath-holding, as far as we can tell – and her legs seem more supple, perhaps stronger. Her heart has fully recovered from the infection and is beating normally and she has had no further seizures. So, I conclude – and you may all disagree with me – that Patience is depressed. Perhaps severely so. We have seen a mixture of reactions in the patients in the trial, but this is one of the outcomes we are seeing.’
‘Depressed? Patience? But she has always been so happy,’ replied Louise, her voice strangulated.
‘Yes,’ replied the doctor. ‘We anticipated that it might be a side effect of the therapy. A symptom of an increased awareness of her plight, as well as changes in her brain.’
‘Oh my God. What have we done?’ Louise began to cry and Eliza moved over to sit next to her and hold her hand.
‘It’s OK, Mum. It’s not your fault.’
‘It is! She was always the one member of our family who could be guaranteed to smile, to laugh at life, even when she was uncomfortable. And now she’s depressed? All the gene therapy has done is leave her pretty much the same as before, hasn’t it? Except worse, because she now seems to know she’s disabled. And I didn’t think it could get any worse. I am such a fool!’
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